Horse Head and a man twirling his pasties. Text: Just your typical Horse Head Human Meet-Up
Smiling person with a tiny horse head taped to their forehead. Text: Horse Head communicator
Horse Head holding a puppy. Text: Even an extra-dimensional super-being needs some puppy time.
A nude Horse Head dancing. Text: Horse Head relaxing.
Horse Head sitting on the couch with another character, laying oven-mitted hands on her. Text: Mind Meld With Mitts
Horse Head does a hand stand in front of a huge photograph of raw meat. Text: Yoga


The Horse Head: Season Zero press release in under construction.

Below is press regarding Rob Parrish’s previous project, Next To Heaven.

Internet Picks of the Week: The Guardian

“Rob Parrish’s video series first hit the web in 2006, but has remained dormant for years. Now it’s back, more brilliantly bizarre than ever. The idea is straightforward – stock footage from the 50s and 60s is given a new voice-track – but it’s superbly executed. The films are odd in themselves, but here they’re given an extra layer of surreal. In recent uploads we meet a woman who keeps men as pets; some cartoon birds suffering from an existential crisis caused by being trapped in a 2D world, and learn about a frozen condition caused by a Perry Como album.”

New Tee Vee: Karina’s Capsule (Karina Longworth)

“If you made it to Pixelodeon a couple of weeks back, you might have seen Rob Parrish’s Tapes of My Father. Composed entirely of found, public domain footage set to voice over, Tapes purports to be a son’s presentation of recently unearthed videos made by his late father, a public access TV producer who secretly recorded his innermost thoughts over stock footage reels. On Parrish’s Blip.TV page, the clip is listed as the 33rd episode of his fascinating and addictive weekly series Next to Heaven, but to me it seems like a more logical entry point for the series as a whole than any of the 32 episodes that precede it. The intro to Tapes is played dead straight. When the son says something like, “Releasing dad’s secret videos in this film is part of the healing process for me,” even though it plays over footage branded “Public Access Producer’s Association” (or, “P.A.P.A”), it’s still possible that this could be a real, non-ironic tribute from a real son to his real dad – there certainly are enough of them on YouTube. But the second we flip over to “dad’s footage”, it’s clear that Parrish isn’t emulating or even spoofing the existing family tribute genre. He’s much more interested in a different genre: the comedy of personal misery. Parrish seems to be using the juxtaposition of old footage and narration both to evoke nostalgia for the era of the totally subjective movie narrator, and to conduct an investigation into the nuances of a certain type of first person storytelling, one that’s simultaneously confessional and not at all reliable. But all of that aside, each episode also works as a kind of convoluted joke. Throughout the series, as in Tapes, you never see the punchline coming right away, because Parrish is so slick about slipping into the tropes of the footage that define each clip. Maybe it’s a trick of the ears and eyes, but Parrish’s modulated voices pair so well with his montages that, sometimes, it’s not until I’m laughing out loud that I remember that I’m watching a manipulation. I’ve watched about ten Next to Heaven episodes, and my favorite so far is probably episode 41, in which an ex-junkie describes replacing his addiction to heroin with an addiction to anti-drug education films – particularly those narrated by Paul Newman.”

ScreenAnarchy Crew’s Best of 2011: Shorts and Web Series Round Up (Ben Umstead)

“Rob Parrish assembles many of his short narratives from the largely forgotten commercials and educational films of yesteryear. These 2-3 minute “self contained” episodes could be described in a plethora of ways. If we wanted to give it that ol’ TV comparison, I’d say it’s “The Wonder Years meets The Twilight Zone” or perhaps it’s like comic book artist Charles Burns and documentarian Errol Morris teaming up on a series about the “everyday strangeness of America”. Case in point: a recent episode recalled the story of an invisible boy who’d ride around on his bicycle–naked. Comparisons and geeky analogies aside, Parrish has quite the unique vision (and several dozen voices) of his own, which is what really makes Next to Heaven the true gem that it is.”

Boing Boing: Tripping Through Video Vaults (Gareth Branwyn)

“My friend, DC-area video artist Rob Parrish, posts a weekly video on his site Next to Heaven. Each week, he goes onto, sniffs out new raw material, dreams up an idea for a found art video, edits, audio-records, and then on Wednesday, releases a new piece. Some of the resulting videos feel immediate, small, off-the-cuff, others strike much deeper, more resonant chords, and are truly impressive in their impact, given the production timeline. I’m always impressed with Rob’s clever use of the found footage. And I love his perverse sense of humor. Given the retro source material, there’s a haunting quality to many of these videos, a pervasive sense of loss, faded memories, tragic childhoods, dreams unfulfilled, and dirty secrets unrevealed — all usually leavened with humor and a healthy helping of the absurd. Above is Episode 41, about a junkie who replaces his love of smack with drug education films narrated by Paul Newman. Other favorites of mine include the special episode The Tapes of My Father, about a son who discovers that his late Public Access TV producer dad recorded his innermost thoughts over found video footage from the PATV archives, and Episode 49, which has a man reminiscing about his macho childhood of sports and trouble-making while the video shows a young boy timidly putting on his mother’s make-up.”

Hammer to Nail: Death is Hilarious (Michael Tully)

“One week ago, I wrote a post expressing my aversion to the concept of webisodes, how I found it too hard to concentrate on them and had yet to see anything that really caught my attention. Not long after, Rob Parrish left a thoughtful comment and concluded it by attaching a link to his own series, Next to Heaven. No offense to Mr. Parrish, but I didn’t even bother clicking on the link for fear of what resided on the other side. But a day or two later, Hammer to Nail’s other driving force alongside Ted Hope, Mr. Corbin Day, called me to say that I should watch Episode 52 because he thought it was pretty wild stuff. At that point, I did. He was right! Since then, I have managed to watch all fifty-two episodes from the show’s first season, and while the content varies from exceptional to interesting, Parrish hits a few genuine grand slams that have made me an official Next to Heaven fan.

“The most important factor here is that Parrish seems to understand the format he’s working with and the audience he’s making these episodes for. This isn’t cinema or television. It’s its own thing. And if done creatively and wisely, it can provide its own healthy measures of entertainment and enlightenment. Each episode hovers around the two-minute mark (with the exception of the special “The Tapes of My Dad,” which combines a few previous episodes into one heartier package). Also, another striking distinction that helps Parrish’s case greatly, I think, is that he isn’t trying to establish an ongoing narrative. Each episode is a self-contained unit, and while the combination of them adds up to a greater whole, they need not be watched in sequence to be appreciated or understood. I guess my problem with the concept of webisodes is that I assumed people were going to only use the format to make low-rent, paper thin, one-dimensional soap operas and/or sitcoms. And while many do, Parrish’s vision couldn’t be more different and exciting.

“As for the show itself, Next to Heaven reminds me of something like Jack Handey’s Deep Thoughts. Over edited stock footage, Parrish crafts hilarious memories of individuals who are speaking from the grave, or from somewhere close to it. While he uses a variety of distorted voices for his narration, my favorite is the slowed-down male figure that sounds like he’s been huffing Nitrous since the 1970s. On the site, Parrish has a page where he selects twelve of the best episodes, but my personal favorites are: 2, 12, 26, 35, 49, and 52. These particular episodes aren’t just the ones that made me laugh the loudest. They actually work on a deeper level, using wit and humor to mock some of our world’s sillier constructs (the work force, country pride, funerals, etc.). Episode 52 was the first episode that I watched, and it might very well be my favorite, especially when the narrator’s friends call to him from Heaven telling him to leave his loser Earth friends behind and join them for the real party up there. Episode 26, about a man who wakes up as a lion and makes his way to work, is another standout, as well as Episode 35, which contains the following patriotic line: “And you know what winners never do? Winners never lose. Never.” That episode brilliantly captures the buffoonish, defiant attitude of the Bush administration as well as any work of criticism I’ve seen or read. But one doesn’t have to read into these episodes to appreciate them. As quick bursts of entertainment, they work just as well.

“I’d like to send a personal thank you to Rob Parrish for helping me to see the light, to show me just a glimpse of what webisodes can do. If any of you out there know of any others that have their heads and hearts and funny bones in the right place, leave a link in the comments section. And if you haven’t watched Next to Heaven yet, do yourself a favor and check it out right now.”

Underground Film Journal: Judy’s Smile (Mike Everleth)

“Sometimes a happy, smiling face can inspire joy and encouragement. Other times, it can instill a murderous rage. The second option is the case in the episode “Judy’s Smile” from Rob Parrish’s Next to Heaven web series. Parrish re-edits video found on and composes new, surreal — and usually very funny if you have a dark sense of humor — voice over. “Judy’s Smile” is one of his darkest efforts yet, taking an innocuous film of a brother and sister and layering a disturbing subtext over it.

“Episodes of Next to Heaven are hosted by and his series is very atypical of the mainstream fare hosted on that video sharing site, where one normally finds vlogs, chat shows, comedies, dramas, etc. The site doesn’t even offer ‘experimental,’ ‘avant-garde’ or ‘cult’ categories probably under the correct assumption that those categories would be poorly trafficked. (Parrish lists Next to Heaven under drama and comedy.)

“So, it’s good that a series like Next to Heaven is out there, infiltrating the ordinary with its cruel, absurdist humor. Parrish has been working on the series for quite a while now, off and on since 2006, and is really keyed in on putting a debased spin on usually feel-good films and videos — classic advertisements, educational films and the like.

“Judy’s Smile” has a particularly excellent ebb and flow with a good plot that drags the viewer around. Happy times are subverted into a disturbing psychological reckoning. A film that presumably was made to show children how to live a well-adjusted life in ’50s suburbia becomes a confession on how living under such a facade can instill a lifelong, traumatic maladjustment.

“You can watch more episodes of Next to Heaven either directly on or on Parrish’s blog where he sometimes reveals a little backstory on the making of the episodes, such as “Judy’s Smile” where he confesses he may have crossed some sort of line of good taste. Well, thank goodness he did.””

Strange Kids Club: Bizarre Videos of Rob Parrish Bring Us “Next To Heaven”

“In the world of web series, few are as garishly bizarre or exquisitely offbeat as Rob Parrish’s NEXT TO HEAVEN.

“As a viewing experience, Next to Heaven can only be equated to watching The Twilight Zone as produced by David Lynch and narrated by Mystery Science Theater 3000. Parrish taps into a short film sensibility by “casting” each new episode using movies he downloads from, which he then re-cuts and edits with new audio. The results are equally disturbing and utterly hysterical.

“Having already surpassed 100 episodes, each of which range from two minutes to ten in length, Parrish’s darkly humorous series has won multiple awards and was even chosen as one of Twitch’s best short film web series of 2011. Season 2 is presumably wrapping up, hopefully with plans for a Season 3, containing highlights that range from sibling rivalry between a monkey and a baby (Season 2 Episode 28) to those ‘damned dirty goat eyes.’

“In an interview with Twitch last year, Parrish explained his process:

I pick them semi-randomly — I punched some keywords into Archive, look at the thumbnails and pick the ones that look like they might be fun. So I have a library of film to watch. Sometimes the story jumps right out of them. It’s like “well there it is. That’s the thing.” And then other times it’s just an image that you like — “I want to do something with that!” But, you don’t know what. And then other times a particular movie will just sit in the back of my mind for weeks, and then I have one of those in-the-shower moments like, “oh I know what to do with that one now!”

The Short Films Blog: The Tapes of My Father (Charlie Wachtel)

In a way that familiar feeling of disappointment makes your new house a home.

“Such are the documented words of a man whose life has been nothing short of miserable. And thus is the tone for this dark, inventive gem of a short film.

“Robert Parrish’s The Tapes of My Father is (on paper) a man’s sympathetic tribute to his deceased father. We learn through archival footage that his dad worked as a newscaster for a television station. Later we are introduced to traces of his father’s troubled past through archived tapes. The tapes feature historically ambiguous black and white photos and video narrated by an artificially deepened voice assumed to be his father.

“After a tongue-in-cheek, laughably cheesy opening homage to his father, Parrish immediately yanks our hearts from our bodies and corners us into a futile world of bitterness and extreme depression. The compilation of his father’s tapes begins with: “Statues make me depressed because I’ll never do anything good enough to merit my own statue.” After spending a few seconds with his father we aren’t sure whether to cringe, laugh or cry.

“But as time continues to pass and his father’s grief remains constant there is no longer any alternative but to submit to your gut, which is inevitably rooting for a belly laugh.

“And if you’re not laughing then the joke’s on you. Parrish brilliantly utilizes seemingly random archived footage to construct a story without actually having any true-to-life characters. The dramatic contrast between the intensely melodramatic approach at the beginning of the film and the morbid second half which follows effectively positions the viewer in an emotionally uncomfortable position. And yet the uncompromising nature of the filmmaking makes it easy to acknowledge those who are indeed buying into the legitimacy of this piece.

“Tapes of My Father was an official selection for the DC Shorts Film Festival and Rosebud Film & Video Festival. Its success stems from its original, experimental style of storytelling and brilliant execution in manipulating the hearts and minds of its viewers.”